


if i crash on the couch (can i sleep in my clothes)

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8406274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ryan goes to Brendon's house when his dad appears drunk as ever.





	

Ryan is scared. It's like this every single Saturday night, not an exception ever. He remembers the first night like this; he was ten. His dad had started drinking again and when he hugged him his breath smelled of whiskey. He didn't like it; he doesn't like it now. His dad screams and yells and breaks plates and his mom is as scared as he is. They're held together, the three of them, rather shakily. It feels like everything will fall apart in any given second— like everything will turn to pieces as soon as Ryan's dad speaks a word in a slurred voice.

He hates it. He hates the smell of whiskey, the bottles of champagne thrown haphazardly around the house. He hates the yells and the fighting that comes in the aftermath, when his father isn't drunk anymore.

He's had enough. He knows his dad gets home drunk around two in the morning, and he knows he can't see him in that state again. He checks himself out in the mirror and gulps down nervously. He licks his lips, checks the hour. It's one in the morning with forty minutes. He goes to his bedroom and waits.

When he hears his dad, he opens the window. When he hears the door slam shut, he falls on the ground and he recomposes himself quickly. He doesn't take time to notice whether his father's too-drunk mind noticed the loud thump of his body against the entrance. He, instead, leaves the house like his life depends on it. He runs, looking for Brendon's house. He knows it's there, in the same street he lives in.

He sees it after some minutes. It's hard to find things you usually only see when there's light, Ryan muses, and then he checks. "The Uries," the mailbox reads. He gulps down his saliva and he knocks on the door. He's lucky to know it's always Brendon who answers.

"Hey, what are you—" Brendon starts, and then he sees it's Ryan and his face loses color when he sees how scared and cold he looks. "Oh," he mutters, and soon he's out of the way. Ryan walks into the house, savoring the peacefulness of it. Nothing like his own home. "What's wrong?" Brendon asks when he sees Ryan fall silent.

"A lot of things," Ryan says, not looking at his boyfriend. "My dad's drunk every Saturday night. He slapped and kicked my mom last week. He screams and calls me a fag." His hands are shaking now and he lets the tears roll down his cheeks. Brendon takes his hand in his and leads him to the couch, sitting with him.

"It'll be okay," Brendon tries. "In one year you can move in with me. You can do it, babe."

"He gets worse every single week," Ryan mutters miserably. "A month ago he didn't hit her. Now he does. I hate him, Bren, I hate him." He feels like there's a knot on his throat and he starts sobbing like a little kid, and he feels ridiculous for being so shaken up by this.

Brendon makes him look up to him. He sees love in Brendon's gaze. He sees hope, strength, honesty. Everything Ryan lacks. And Brendon kisses him. His lips are chapped and Brendon's are soft like clouds, and Ryan feels holy under his boyfriend's touch.

When they pull away, Ryan forces a smile. Brendon smiles back, not forcing it like Ryan is. Brendon kisses him gain, putting his hand on the back of Ryan's neck to deepen the kiss. "I love you," Brendon whispers against his lips.

"I live for you," Ryan says like a vow, and he sees Brendon tear up. It had always been his way of saying 'I love you', and it makes him feel almost sacred. Like he has a meaning, like he gives a meaning to Ryan's life.

Brendon nods, sighs, puts his hand in his. He squeezes softly, and he sees Ryan shiver. "I'm sorry..." Ryan trails off, and Brendon just squeezes his hand a bit more. "I shouldn't... it shouldn't affect me this much."

"It's okay," Brendon says and pulls him into a hug, kissing his forehead. "It's okay, Ry, it's okay. He's shit, and it's okay to feel bad because of the shit he's done. It's okay." He repeats 'it's okay' like a mantra, and he knows Ryan will take his time accepting that it is okay.

"I hate him," he whispers. He feels bad for hating his father, but he knows he shouldn't. He's a piece of shit; he deserves to be hated. "It's okay," he repeats to himself.

The corners of Brendon's lips lift a bit. "Yeah, good," he says and then kisses the older boy. "Wanna sleep on my bed?"

"No, you know I have to wake up early before my parents start worrying. I'll be at the couch."

"I'll sleep with you, then. In the couch."

Ryan blushes furiously and nods. He lets himself fall into Brendon's embrace. His couch is big enough for the two of them if they're squished together.

"Good night, Bren."

"G'night, Ry." Brendon kisses him one more time. Ryan feels almost at peace, knowing his dad can't do anything here. Knowing he's safe at Brendon's house.

He dreams of soft lips and the phrase 'it's okay' and, god, he swears he hasn't slept this peacefully in years.


End file.
